


Triplets x Reader - One Shot

by serpentauthor



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Light-Hearted, Minor Violence, One Shot, and you’ve got five minutes, idk I have a weird fondness for the triplets, if you’re brain dead, just a little ditty, the fluffiest of fluff, this pretty good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29924634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serpentauthor/pseuds/serpentauthor
Summary: Around one and a half centuries after season 2, the Triplets are still alive and questionably productive. You, dear reader, made a contract with them. Sometimes you do wonder if they’re at times more of a hindrance than a help.Warnings: Has a little bit of blood, but unless you’re violently squeamish you should be fine. Contains strong language.
Relationships: The Triplets (Kuroshitsuji)/Reader
Kudos: 2





	Triplets x Reader - One Shot

**Author's Note:**

> First time I’ve written the Triplets, so sorry if I got them a little off.

You couldn’t say your contract with the Triplets had been ideal - they were young Demons, or so you had been told, and this was the first contract they’d taken without Hannah. You’d been informed of this in an only slightly threatening letter from the afore mentioned Demon that more or less boiled down to ‘be nice to them or else’. Well, you hadn’t had much of a reason to be anything but. They weren’t perfect, but they tried (most of the time) and you thought they did a pretty good job, not to mention there was just something you found intensely endearing about all three of them. Wether it was the little mannerisms that told you which was which, the little areas of knowledge that they lacked, their still remaining curiosity, you couldn’t say you ruled with an iron fist. Perhaps it would be your undoing, but you decided you were willing to take the risk.

Still, if you could fault them for one thing, it was that they were frequently more focused on you than they were on their duties, and indeed seldom left you alone, and when you said seldom, you meant seldom. For example, you were currently lying in bed and wondering how on earth you hadn’t been roused by the arrival of the three Demons that had somehow wormed their way under the covers with you whilst you weren’t awake. You had Canterbury holding one of your arms in an iron grip, Timber with his head rested on your shoulder and his hand curled around a more... sensitive area of your chest, and Thompson lying on top of you, all three sound asleep. You had quite entirely intended on getting up, but if you did you’d have to wake all three of them, and that was supposing they even agreed to get off you at all. Essentially, you were stuck there. 

You sighed, resigning to your fate and using your free hand to run your fingers through Timber’s shaggy hair; his expression, like the expressions of his two brothers, was, peaceful: eyes closed, lips slightly parted, and body relaxed. It wasn’t bad, you had to admit. The weight of Thompson on your chest was only slightly suffocating (though you preferred to think of him as comfortingly heavy), and it was nice to be around the three when none of you were busy or tense. You vaguely wondered if you could even feel any of them breathing. You were sure that if they were you would have felt Thompson’s chest rise and fall, but you couldn’t. You figured Demons probably didn’t need to breathe anyway, plus, every now and then Thompson would mumble something under his breath. “Oh, you bastards are lucky I’m not stricter,” you muttered, wondering when, if at all, you’d be released from their grasps. You were just beginning to get used to your situation, when you heard your phone ring, and, in order to get to it, you’d have to remove your arm from Canterbury’s grasp. This proved difficult.  
“Canterbury, sweetheart, you need to let go of my arm, someone’s calling me,” you stated, trying to pull your arm away from Canterbury, who finally stirred and only held it tighter.  
“No, you’re warm,” he muttered without opening his eyes.  
“Whoever it is can call you back,” Thompson murmured.  
“Can’t be that important," Timber concluded.  
"Well, you would all say that, wouldn't you?" You replied, trying to get your other arm out from underneath Timber, who finally cracked open one bleary, ruby eye to glare at you. "I thought you three were supposed to be helpful," you muttered, as the phone stopped ringing and went to voicemail. Timber shut his one open eye, and silence descended upon the room again.

“It’s eleven o’clock, we need to get up,” you stated, once again trying to pull your arm out from underneath Timber - you needed both your arms to sit up because you had Thompson on your chest and you did not have enough strength to do a sit up with the weight of an adult man on top of you.  
“Why?” Timber mumbled, taking the hand of the arm you were trying to free and wrapping it back round his waist.  
“Because I have things to do: I have emails to read, I have to go to the shops to pick up more milk, I have to reply to whoever phoned me. I am an adult human and adult humans have a lot of boring things to do, that, if left, can rapidly stack up. Plus, one of arms is numb. Hell, for as lazy as you can all be, you’re not usually this bad. What? Is something wrong?” Truthfully, you’d kind of just been assuming they were all being lethargic to get out of work, which, admittedly, was completely possible. Timber exchanged glances with Canterbury, who looked over at Thompson, who turned his attention back to Timber, like they were all in on something you weren’t, probably because that was the case.  
“Last night a Reaper came past and tried to pick a fight with us.”  
“Wasn’t too difficult to chase off, so he must‘ve been younger.”  
“He did manage to fight back a bit though.”  
“All he gave us were a few scratches, for the most part.”  
“Except for Thompson.” Canterbury let go of you arm, Timber let you wiggle your other one out from under him, and Thompson pushed himself up off your chest, allowing to finally sit up. There was a dark stain surrounding the tear in Thompson’s waist coat and shirt, and indeed a fair amount of blood on your PJ top as well. You muttered something rude under your breath - it was just by Thompson's shoulder, and didn't look too horrendously deep, but it was still nasty.  
"One of you might have said. Didn't you try to patch it up?" You asked, trying to pull Thompson's shirt out the way so you could get a better look whilst not actually touching his wound.  
"We did," Canterbury affirmed, resting his head on your shoulder.  
"The TCP stung," Thompson explained, keeping a careful eye on where you put your hands.  
"And we were tired from the fight," Timber concluded, pushing your hands away from Thompson's wound. You sighed, and ran a hand through your hair - you couldn't very well take Thompson to hospital to get stitches, the staff would ask questions and you weren't entirely sure how you'd answer, not to mention the three weren't very good at acting human under close inspection - no doubt the local anaesthetic wouldn't work, or Thompson's eyes would do that funny glowy thing when the nurse tried to clean his wound, or something of that sort. You'd just have to hope it wouldn't come open again.  
"Okay... Right, come on. If you go into the bathroom I'll do it," you stated, as Thompson got up off your lap. 

You sat on the bathroom floor and dabbed at the slash down Thompson's shoulder with the TCP. Canterbury was leant against your shoulder (slightly unhelpful) and Timber was keeping ahold of one your arms (very unhelpful). Thompson also wasn't staying very still. "Thompson, can you please just stop moving," you requested, for what must have been at least the tenth time. "It's just TCP, you wuss."  
“Do we need to clean it?” Timber asked.  
“Yes - we are Demons, I dunno if we can get infections,” Thompson agreed.  
“But Miss Hannah always told us to,” Canterbury stated in an almost whisper. He was no doubt the quietest of the three, so it surprised you to see him oppose his brothers, if oppose was the correct word.  
“It won’t hurt to,” you insisted.  
“It definitely does,” Thompson stated.  
“That wasn’t what I meant. It’s better to be safe than sorry. Besides, if Hannah told you to clean wounds she’s probably right, she knows more than all four of us combined. Right, there, TCP done.” Thompson let out a sigh of relief as you screwed the cap back on. “Can I trust you three to do bandages?” Timber and Canterbury nodded, and both sat up properly. Timber sat in front of Thompson, and Canterbury behind, and between the two of them they had bandaged up Thompson’s shoulder in what you hoped was the right way with respectable speed. It always amazed you how in sync all three were. 

You had intended on getting things done after that. Instead, you were coerced (or perhaps guilt tripped) into going back to bed, but you managed to bargain your way into using the sofa instead, so you could at least watch Netflix to keep you occupied. It took considerable shifting about for all four of you to get comfortable still be covered by the one blanket, and you got elbowed in the ribs at least twice, but once that was over with you were forced to accept that you were probably just going to have to stay in that position until the three woke up on their own, because you sure as Hell didn’t have the heart to disturb any of them.  
Thompson was asleep again near instantly, Canterbury soon joining him, with only Timber staying awake a little longer, his gaze fixed on the window. You initially ignored that, and instead turned the TV volume down and picked a show that wouldn't require much brain power, but after a while it struck you as odd. "Looking for something?" You asked. Timber's gaze briefly flicked back to you.  
"We only chased off that Reaper from last night - it’ll be back." You sighed, and glanced over at the window yourself, running your hands through Thompson’s hair.  
"If they do, I'll tell them to piss off. They won't hurt me, I'm human, that's against their rules, isn't it?" Timber sighed, and rested his head on your shoulder.  
"I guess. Without Thompson we can't be taken by surprise, though." You wrapped an arm around his waist.  
"I promise, I'll keep an eye out."  
"If you're certain." 

You looked up from the TV when the door bell rang. Timber and Canterbury's eyes glowed, and Thompson stood up and took ahold of one of your hands. "It's the Reaper," Thompson informed.  
"About time to. You three stay there, I'll answer. See if it's still quite as intent on causing trouble." The Triplets reluctantly let go of you, and you made your way over to the door. Though you didn't realise it at the time, your messy hair and crumpled PJs only added to the effect.  
You yanked open the door, and spotted a young man with bright green eyes on your doorstep - there was a nasty bruise blossoming across his jaw, but looked otherwise unfazed. "Yes?" You asked with a raised eyebrow.  
"It is in your best interest to let me in so I can dispose of the vermin living in your house. Whilst I understand you may be attached to them, I assure you that they mean you harm."  
"They're not the ones standing on my doorstep with a death scythe." The Reaper's eyebrow twitched.  
"Please let me through, or else I will have to resort to force."  
"Bullshit. You Reapers aren't allowed to touch the living - you can't put that scythe anywhere near me without ending up drowning in paperwork. Besides, those Demons are in a contract with me, so they're not going to be pursuing any of your precious souls. Do they give you promotions for killing off Demons or something?" The Reaper opened his mouth to reply, but you carried on before he could. "Now, I believe it's my turn for threats. I've got the Demon of Flowers' phone number; if you're so determined to fight a Demon, you can fight one that's actually armed, I'm sure she'd oblige. Want me to give her a ring?" The Reaper stood frozen on your doorstep, not looking quite so calm any more. Your hand went to your pocket, and the Reaper took a step back. "Will that be goodbye then?" The Reaper shot you a glare.  
"They'll kill you, you know."  
"Then so be it." You shut the door, and watched the Reaper sulk off through the window in the door. Satisfied that it was gone, you made your way back into the living room, to the mild astonishment of the three Demons.  
"I doubt he'll be coming back," you remarked, as you sat back down on the sofa, and resumed your previous position.


End file.
